


Coming With You

by Sekkiera



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: But only a bit, Durin Family, Dwarfs can be mean, Fíli and Kíli are too young for this, Fíli and Kíli don't care about rules, Gen, Khuzdul, King Thorin, Poor Kíli, Thorin Is Not Amused, Three words actually, Uncle Thorin, but he's nice, but sometimes, help i don't know how to tag, not always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekkiera/pseuds/Sekkiera
Summary: "It was night, and their burglar [...] was sleeping.In the morning they would leave the Shire, on their way to Erebor; the time had come.First, however -"Fíli and Kíli were never supposed to come along on the quest. When they show up at bag end, Thorin demands an explanation.





	Coming With You

It was night, and their burglar - though he was not much of a burglar, and it was yet to be seen whether he would join them on their quest - was sleeping.

In the morning they would leave the Shire, on their way to Erebor; the time had come.

First, however -

“Fíli,” Thorin said. “Kíli. With me.”

He left the room, sure his nephews would follow him, and stopped only once they were a good distance away from the house.

He frowned at them. “Explain yourselves.” His voice was harsh, and Fíli flinched.

The blond stood tall, as had been drilled into him, and his gaze was fixed on something just over Thorin's shoulder. Another result of his lessons in conduct - to never look your superior in the eye, but not to look away either. Both would be disrespectful.

Young Kíli stood beside his brother, shifting from one foot to the other, eyes glued to the ground. It was obvious that the boy was much less trained in politics, and younger as well, if not much in years then in spirit.

Kíli seemed more nervous by the second, fiddling with his sleeves until he finally burst out: “We wanted to be there!”

Thorin didn't show any reaction.

“You told us stories, remember? About the mountain, and halls of gold, About glory and hope and home - And we wanted to be there, uncle. When you finally reclaimed Erebor.”

“And so you decided to go against my direct orders.”

“We -”

This time, Kíli was cut off by his brother.

“We are sorry for that, Thune. But how could we not?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration.

“As Kíli said, we grew up with stories of our true home.” Contrary to Kíli the heir kept his voice much more levelled. He had learned well. “But we also grew up with you as our uncle and king, and with tales of what you did.”

Thorin did not interrupt, though he did grit his teeth. Great though his deeds might be said to have been, the retelling brought back painful memories each time.

“We grew up hearing of the glory of our kingdom, and the glory of our king. We could not ignore their call.”

“Then perhaps you should have followed lead and honoured your king.”

Fíli looked as though someone had slapped him, and his composed facade was lost from one moment to the other. “That's not - We didn't - We would never - You know that.”

“Explain yourselves,” Thorin said again. He did not like to repeat himself.

Fíli kept clenching and unclenching his fist, a habit much more subtle than Kíli's, but Thorin had known both boys since they drew their first breath, and so when his elder sisters-son was nervous, he knew. He could tell from the way Fíli's jaw was clenched, that the boy was trying to find just the right explanation, and just the right words, and just as he opened his mouth -

“We need to be there, uncle.” Kíli had been faster. “We need to.”

There was something in the youngster's eyes, a burning desire to prove himself.

Thorin nodded. “I see. Fíli?”

Fíli looked at his uncle, then his brother again, then his uncle. His shoulders slumped. “It's my fault.”

“Is it?”

“I was the one who suggested we follow you. I know you told us we should stay, but I couldn't, I - Uncle, please.”

Thorin furrowed his brows. “What happened?”

Fíli looked pained, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered to Kíli.

The king understood well enough.

“Kíli,” he said. “Leave us.”

“But -”

Thorin turned to look - to glare - at his sisters-son, and after a moment Kíli relented. “Fine.” Then, averting his gaze again, he said: “At least tell me whether we can stay.”

“That depends on what your brother has to say.”

“But that's un -”

This time it was Fíli who interrupted the younger dwarf. “Kíli. It's fine."

Kíli frowned. “No, it's not.”

Fíli sighed. “Just - just do as uncle says please.”

Kíli huffed, annoyance and anger clear in his face, but turned around, back towards the hobbit's home.

“Well?” Thorin prompted when he was sure Kíli was out of hearing range.

“I'm sorry, uncle,” Fíli said, and averted his gaze when Thorin tried to look at him, training seemingly forgotten (and Thorin was glad for it. Sometimes Fíli seemed to forget that, before their king, he was their uncle). “It was -” He paused, then tried again. “Kíli is right. It feels like we've spent all our lives preparing for this quest.”

He looked up, and in his eyes there was desperation and pleading that Thorin had not seen since Fíli had been a dwarfling of mere twenty years.

Still, he shook his head. “The truth, sisters-son.”

Fíli swallowed, looking down again. “It's the rumours.”

“What rumours?”

Fíli looked up, surprised. “You haven't heard?”

“What. Rumours.”

“Well, I guess you wouldn't, they would be too afraid to say those things in front of anyone they knew would report back to you. I guess it was pure chance that I overheard, at first, but then -”

“Fíli.”

“They - Some say our line lost its claim to the throne.” At his next words, his gaze flickered to Thorin, monitoring his reaction. “They say you are unfit to rule.”

“Aye. But that's no surprise.” He regarded Fíli with furrowed brows. “There's more.”

“They also said neither me nor Kíli could ever be your heir.”

“And why is that?”

“Because my father was not of royal blood, and Kíli -”

Thorin waited.

“They said Kíli is a bastard. That he can't be a dwarf; they keep calling him shirumundsul.”

Thorin froze. “What?”

“They say Khagan must have -” Fíli seemed to choke on the words. “And I thought if we proved ourselves, we could -”

“Their names.” Thorin's voice was quiet and cold.

“You wouldn't know -”

“Their names, Fíli.”

“But why?”

“Because they committed high treason, and will be treated accordingly.”

“I -” Fíli looked like he was about to protest, but then thought better of it. “Dufor is usually the most vocal one. Frar seems to be his right-hand man. As far as I can tell, they are the ones who started those rumours.”

He took a deep breath. “But uncle - punishing them won't dissipate the rumours. If we reclaim Erebor, if we can be by your side when you set things right, there won't be any more talk or any more rumours. They will respect us.”

Thorin didn't lose his composure often, but at this he did, his voice loud and angry, echoing through the otherwise silent hills. “Respect won't do your dead bodies any good!”

Fíli flinched.

Thorin closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath. “I told you to stay for a reason. You are the heir, Fíli. What do you think will happen if I fail? Who, do you think, will protect Kíli?”

“I -”

“And what of the company? All of them are sworn to give their lives to you. Both of you get in trouble frequently, and it's enough to get others hurt.”

Fíli's voice was quiet and he looked crestfallen, but there was determination in his eyes. “And what of Kíli? You heard him cry when the others poked fun at him for not growing a proper beard. You saw him trying to change only to win your approval. Yours, uncle. You know how desperate he is to fit in.”

Thorin shook his head.

“Then what about me?” Fíli asked, determination seeping into his voice. “If I am your heir, I've got to be there, don't I? This is - It's too important. You talked about my duty - Isn't it my duty to join you?”

No reply.

“Please, uncle!” The boy sounded desperate.

Thorin glowered. “If I sent us back at any point, you _will_  go.”

Fíli's eyes widened. “Of course! Anything you ask of us, we -”

Thorin held up a hand, and Fíli's mouth snapped shut.

“Don't make promises you don't understand.”

The younger opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying anything.

Thorin sighed. “l don't want vows, Fíli, or blind obedience. You had every right to argue, back at the Ered Luin. And if my memory doesn't fool me, you did. But once an order is given, I expect you to follow it. Are we clear?”

“Yes, uncle.” Fíli's voice was sombre. Good.

“Can you promise me the same thing for your brother?”

Fíli worried his lip. “I'm not sure. I think so, but - You know Kíli.”

Thorin nodded, once. “I expect you to make sure he doesn't cause problems. You talked about your responsibility - Take it up.”

Fíli stood a little straighter at that. “Anything else?”

Thorin shook his head. “This is not one of our trips to the forest. You aren't experienced enough.”

“I understand.” Fíli was disappointed and it showed, even if he kept his voice levelled.

“No,” Thorin said. “You don't. But you will soon enough.”

After all, it was night, and their burglar - maybe a burglar, and maybe theirs - was sleeping, but in the morning they had a journey to go on and a home to reclaim.
    
    
      
    
      
    
    

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul Vocab:  
> Thune - My king, informal  
> Shirumundsul - son of an elf (using a derogatory term for 'elf'; literally: "Son of a smooth face")  
> Khagan - Mother
> 
> I know there are multiple versions of Khuzdul ou there; I took mine from this page:  
> http://archive.lotrocommunity.eu/rasse-der-zwerge-711/187688-zur-sprache-der-zwerge-grussformel-rp-3.html  
> (It's a german page - Sorry, folks!)


End file.
